Flesh And Bone
by Aziord
Summary: Tobirama, brilliant mind of the Senju clan, loses a brother. With that, his heart cracks. He loses another. With that, his rationality cracks. His remaining brother weeps. With that, his resolve snaps. What would happen if the Edo Tensei was more than just momentarily tethering a weak soul back to Earth? What if Tobirama had developed the jutsu sooner?


Tobirama couldn't stand to stare at Hashirama's face for longer than a moment — his eyes bored holes into the coffin that lied before them. Eyes that held little of the spark Tobirama had come to often associate with his older brother. Life, peace, youthful optimism; their father often spoke of how Hashirama would soon lose those ideals due to the shinobi lifestyle they were thrust into. Tobirama himself was lucky he had caught on swift to his father's intentions, choosing a stoic, spartan mindset in comparison to his brothers. Butsuma only meant to avoid the inevitable anguish and sorrow that was evident in the world they were born into.

It was rather a surprise that Hashirama had not cracked first when Kawarama was killed. Instead, working against what Tobirama had initially thought to occur, Hashirama was motivated to work better towards his dream of peace — a world in which no children would be needlessly slaughtered for a centuries old rivalry that ceased to no end.

But now, staring in the twilight at an unburied casket, Tobirama could sense his only remaining brother breaking, splitting in two. Maybe it was because Hashirama was the one to find Itama's lifeless corpse, few existing wounds indicating genjutsu torture, or maybe it was because Itama was so innocent in comparison to Kawarama, a sympathetic soul never meant for the shinobi life. Tobirama could never be sure. He wasn't his brother, he did not know all his thoughts, and he most likely wouldn't know until their father returned and once again spoke unsavory words.

Butsuma was currently away from the compound, out on a mission, and wouldn't be back until weeks pass. As clan head, and as his father, Itama would not be properly laid to rest until he had returned. It was unlikely the Senju would send a messenger for him to come back anyhow — he was away to speak alliance terms with multiple clans further out in the Land of Fire.

Rocks kicking up underneath a spinning heel alerted Tobirama's attention. Hashirama had spun, scrubbing furiously at his eyes in a pitiful attempt to wipe away the gloss and silent tear-fall.

"Tobirama, let's go for now. We can come back in the morning."

Feeling grief coil up inside his chest, Tobirama dared not to speak — he had to be his older brother's pillar. He was the one who should shuffle the welling agony to where no one could see; it was unbefitting of their social standing within the clan to both be seen as not how shinobi were to act. 'Shinobi do not cry," Butsuma's bleak voice echoed back at him in his mind. That had been at Kawarama's funeral, in which only Itama had shed tears. At the very least, the current twilight gave them enough darkness to his Hashirama's blotched face from prying eyes.

Tobirama gave the desolate casket one last glance, Senju crest carved deep into the mahogany wood. He would never see either of his younger brothers again, he had little to protect.

"That's fine, I'll—" voice cracking, he snapped his mouth closed. Hashirama sent him a questioning glance in response to the noise, and Tobirama forced himself to heat his face in fake mortification. Embarrassment be damned, he would have to play this off as a mishap duebto his age, not that he was wavering under emotional pressure.

Coughing to clear his throat, Tobirama ignored the obvious burning shame that inflamed his face. "I'll ask Tōka if she has any leftovers we can have. I'm sure she'll relent because, we'll. . ." He trailed off, memories of Hashirama's boisterous laughter every time Itama would flail around their home's kitchen, pan of charred fish smoldering after his failed attempt to cook it with a fire jutsu. It was small moments like those, two years after Kawarama's death, that they forgot about any and all grief surrounding their lives. Moments in which the three remaining brothers felt like family again.

Tobirama clenched his fist, registering Hashirama clap a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Let's go, Tobirama."

The walk back to their empty home was short, the two teenagers avoiding the prying eyes of the clansmen at all moments. It was late enough that few were wandering about, anyhow. Even as they passed Tōka's house, candlelight flickering bright and inviting from her home, Tobirama decided against stopping, even for the prospect of food. They were being trained as shinobi, after all — they could go days with as little as mere ration bars.

"Tobirama, could you. . . leave me alone for tonight? I need to think about some things by myself. I'm sorry," Hashirama spoke, blankly staring at the closed, bleak, door to their lonesome house.

This came as another surprise to Tobirama — after Kawarama's death, Hashirama retained his clamorous words, grouping his remaining brothers to preach idealistic hopes. And this time he acted in such a different manner?

Maybe such idealistic hopes were crushed in the limelight of reality? That Tobirama himself could die just as easily as the other two?

But no, Tobirama himself wouldn't be slaughtered with ease in comparison to his younger siblings — Kawarama died because he was barely old enough to hold a sword, he was too young to have been placed in battle in the first place? And Itama? Hashirama may as well would have argued that Itama was just the same, but coupled with his inexperience, he was never suited for the shinobi lifestyle: the bloodshed and fighting.

And yet — Tobirama watched in silence as his elder brother shut the door to his room firmly for the first time in ages, isolating himself from all — and yet he could feel his grief be oversurged by unfathomable rage. Is this what kept the Senju's rivalry alive with the Uchiha so long? Unbridled anger? The slaughter of those dearest?

Even so, no matter how Tobirama has paraded as Butsuma's 'true heir' in the past, he couldn't stand for such a baseless war to continue for centuries longer. He believed, albeit aloud to no one, in Hashirama's dream, hoped that it would be more than wishful, childlike, thoughts. But with Itama and Kawarama gone, he didn't have much incentive left to strive for peace left, did he?

If only Itama had lived. If only the Uchiha saw less worth in slaughtering a defenseless child. If only—

If only Itama had lived?

Tobirama stumbled over his feet in his haste to scramble away from Hashirama's door. His frantic footsteps echoed own the hall as he threw open his bedroom door, causing many scattered papers to flutter up from their previous resting place. Grabbing one from the air, his eyes scanned over the page before unceremoniously releasing it — something about fire jutsu breathing exercises. He didn't need that.

Snatching more papers from around the room, he kicked his door shut, ready to settle into a long night of research.

His father always stated anything was when it came to chakra, and Tobirama certainly believed in such an ideal. Between the Nara's ability to manipulate shadows, the Yamanaka tranfering minds, and genjutsu being plausible enough to inflict phantom pain akin to real, Tobirama knew he could at the very least, do something to undo this unsavory death. It was a long shot — he had only recently begun developing his own, unique genjutsu and water jutsu. There was no yelling what would entail bringing someone back to life, but had to take this risk. If not for his own sake, but Hashirama's. He owed his life to his family, it's who he would give his everything for, nothing could compare.

And in the end, who was he without being the Brilliant Senju Pride? Hashirama, despite his refusal to outright fight with his wood release, was an untapped powerhouse, and every clansmen knew it. What was Tobirama left with? Hashirama's younger brother who was level-headed? Tobirama prided himself on his lack of envy, but he didn't want to die as a forgotten Senju, a faceless name. He would make himself just that — a name. Just as Hashirama already has, Tobirama would cement his with as many jutsu as he could develop.

And maybe. Just maybe. Kawarama and Itama could live their lives to make names as well.

Hauling a book from his desk to his bed, he scanned it's cover, assuring himself this was the best place to start first. Whatever he was to develop needed to involve yin or yang chakra, that much was evident. Even at his age, Tobirama held the use of three chakra natures already: water, earth, and yang. If he must, he would find himself an Akimichi clan member to teach him the fundamentals of him chakra in what the books could not. He knew of no Senju that held such a nature.

Sighing, Tobirama leaned against the wall, adjusting himself to lie properly. It would be a long night, scouring the many books in his possession for any and all details he could find pertaining to yin and yang jutsu. And even then, he should probably glance over his summoning and sealing books again — he hadn't read them since he signed a contract with his snow leopard summons nearly a year ago. Bringing a soul back, if that was even required, would need sealing. Or would you summon it back? Tobirama shook his head at the questions. There were far too many he needed to look into.

By the time the bird chirping outside his window multipled by a fourth, Tobirama thought it best to clap his last book shut, dropping it into the growing pile by his bedside.

Morning sunlight rays filtered into his room, partially blocked by his swaying curtains. However, the prospect of it being morning did not phase Tobirama. It was dawn, and with that time, the rest of his clan would be waking. More specifically, Tōka.

Stumbling from his bed, he felt his joints pop as he changed into new clothes to cleanse himself of the from mess that was yesterday.

He held his dirty, black undershirt before dropping it into the pile of his unclean clothing. It was almost as if he could almost see Itama's bloodstains soaked into the material. When Hashirama had rushed into camp, shouts of the adult Senju chasing him wild, he had collided roughly with a training Tobirama. Hashirama was soaked in blood around his midsection, and yet, it wasn't his. But—

Shaking his head, Tobirama sighed to himself, forcing himself to abscond from the room. He didn't want to remember yesterday more than he must. If he succeeded in his jutsu, then yesterday may as well never had occurred.

Tobirama spared a fleeting look at Hashirama's door, still firmly shut in its place. There was no indication for when he would leave. Later, he mused to himself, he would bring Hashirama food and see if he was alright.

Stepping out onto a gravel path, Tobirama glanced around, hoping to spot Tōka nearby so he wouldn't have to root around the compound in search of her. Having no such luck and instead viewing bleak, gray skies, he frowned, starting for her house. If he was fortunate, the elders wouldn't have picked this day to discuss plans with her while Butsuma was away. Although she was their cousin, she was much older, in her early twenties, with battle experience under her belt and labeled as one of the fiercest kunoichi in the Land of Fire. It wouldn't be uncommon for her to be invited to meetings to discuss strategy.

"Tōka!" Tobirama called into the window of an adjacent house.

A beat passed before the curtain was yanked back, and said woman poked her head out the window. "What—" her eyes widened at Tobirama's appearance. "By God, have you even slept? Get in here, you idiot!"

Tobirama didn't need to be told twice by the look on her face. He trudged into her house the moment the door flew open, spinning to face Tōka's thundering expression.

"What are you doing here instead of being in bed? I know how you handled Kawarama's death last time, but depriving yourself just to mourn is not—"

The younger Senju cut her off, repercussions be damned. "Do you know of one of the Uchiha who killed Itama?"

Tōka paused, scowling. "No, I'm not telling you. I'm not going to be responsible for someone as young as you attempting to attack a full-grown Uchiha and ending up as slaughtered as Kawarama was," she stated, before softly adding, "Think of how Hashirama would feel if you died as well."

"He'll be pretty damn happy if you just tell me at least one name. I won't do anything reckless Tōka, you know I didn't inherent my brother's rash decision skills," Tobirama pressed, watching his cousin's hardened expression waver. He had a point — be wasn't likely to enact on revenge, from what Tōka and seen of him as he grew.

Tōka exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand down her face. "Fine, just. Hikaku Uchiha. He has brown hair pulled up into a short ponytail. But that's all I'm telling you."

Tobirama felt a smirk break his stony expression. This was the information he needed for his plan if his jutsu was to succeed. "Thank you, cousin," he said before pivoting on his heel to swiftly exit the house.

"And Tobirama?"

He stopped midstep, hand paused on the door frame. "Yes?"

"We'll all miss Itama, not just you and Hashirama. If you two need to talk, my door is always open."

He smiled gently at words, ignoring her muttered comment of, "God knows your father wouldn't listen."


End file.
